Holding Hands
by Secretlyademigodinthetardis
Summary: Destiel. Dean is alone in a motel room, trying to sleep, when Cas shows up needing a friend. Cute fluff ensues. No smut, but language warnings. Oneshot


**AN: Some random Destiel fluff. Also published now in my Headcanons thing**

* * *

Silence reigned in the motel room. Dean – in a separate room to Sam after arguing over when they would return to the bunker – lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling.

_I just want someone to talk to, for fuck's sake,_ he thought to himself.

Only he never had anyone. And when someone became close enough, he did the only thing that came naturally, and pushed them away. Dean closed his eyes and told the voices in his head to shut up while he slept.

On the edge of his hearing, there was a faint flutter of wings.

Dean didn't bother opening his eyes.

"Hey, Cas"

"Hello Dean"

Dean cracked one eyelid open. Castiel was standing over him as he lay on the old bed, looking down at Dean's naked chest with a faint look of interest. Dean hurriedly pulled up the covers, the tips of his ears turning red.

"Dude, Cas, we talked about this"

"Of course, I'm sorry," Castiel walked over to the window, lost in thought. Dean sat up.

"Cas, you alright man?"

Cas sighed and rested a hand on the dirty windowsill.

"I just….needed a friend, Dean."

Worry gnawed at Dean's stomach.

"Cas, what's wrong?"

Cas didn't look at him.

"Cas!"

"I'm being cast out, Dean"

Dean stared at him in stunned silence.

"You're….you're what?"

"Kicked out, let go, thrown away, must I be any clearer?"

"Of _Heaven?"_

"Yes, Dean"

"But why?"

Cas finally looked at him, and Dean saw the hunted look in his friends eyes, the way he held himself. Anyone else would only see Castiel's usual stoic appearance, but Dean could read him like a book.

"I've spent far too much time on Earth, Dean. I've started to feel emotions, and directly participate in human affairs. Angels aren't meant to do so, and I'm now more human than angel. I only have enough power to fly , and soon that will be gone too."

"Shit, Cas," Dean breathed, getting out of bed and crossing the room despite the fact that he was only in his boxers. "There anything we can do?"

The fallen angel turned to look at him, and Dean would never, ever admit to how his breath hitched at how close they found themselves and the way Castiel looked at him. Castiel swallowed, and Dean followed the bobbing of his Adam's apple with his eyes before realising what he was doing, and quickly looked back up to the guy's face to see if he'd noticed.

Castiel's face gave nothing away as he responded, "No, Dean. Maybe if I'd acted earlier…..if I'd returned to Heaven sooner and stopped my…Earthly wanderings after the Apocalypse, maybe. But it's too late, and I am sorry."

"The hell are you sorry for, man?"

"I will be Graceless, and therefore useless. I suppose you won't need me anymore."

Dean wrapped his arms around a suddenly confused angel, and pulled him into a rough, warm hug, letting his chin rest on his shoulder.

"Of course I'll need you, man. You're family. We watch out for each other. I want you to stick around, whether you have mojo or not."

"Dean. What are you doing?"

"'m hugging you, idiot. Traditionally, you hug someone back when they do this," Dean grunted into his best friends shoulder, determinedly ignoring the butterflies that erupted as his skin brushed against the material of Castiel's clothes. Castiel nervously raised his arms and placed them around Dean, and the hunter suppressed a small smile at how awkward the fallen angel was.

"Dean…I've never done this before."

"It's cool, dude, gets better with practice."

They pulled apart and smiled at each other for what seemed like an endless amount of time, before Dean coughed awkwardly and looked away.

"Dean"

"What?"

"I – " Cas yawned.

"You're tired?"

"I believe that this is what I am feeling, yes"

Dean let out a bark of laughter.

"Let's sleep, come on," he made his way to the bed, but Castiel stayed put.

"Where will I sleep?"

"…in bed?"

"Oh"

"Cas, get that stick outta your ass, take off the fuckin' trench coat, get into whatever's comfy outta what you're wearing, get into bed, and go the fuck to sleep, PLEASE. It's 4am, man, and we're heading out at 8"

* * *

The two men finally lay in bed next to one another, staring at the ceiling like Dean had been before Castiel showed up. There was a good few inches of space between them, and Dean felt it like a lost limb, yearning to just get the courage to stretch out his hand over the brief space and at least graze the soft skin of Castiel's hand with his own rough, calloused fingers.

He took a deep breath, but before he could do anything, Castiel spoke.

"Thank you, Dean"

Dean turned his head. Castiel was looking at him with a soft smile on his face, and Dean's heart clenched painfully. Cas was looking at him like…like he was the fuckin' Messiah reborn or some shit. Cas looked happy, and Dean felt another twist in his chest as he realised that he had never seen Cas like this, with his eyes all shiny and…stuff.

Dean could only smile in response, heart too full – too damn _full,_ Winchester, what the hell is wrong with you? – to say anything back, and they both returned to gazing at the ceiling, half asleep. Dean slowly drifted off, but was jerked back into wakefulness by a hand suddenly gripping his firmly.

He looked over. Castiel was fast asleep, snoring lightly. Dean looked at their clasped hands in wonder, thumb gently brushing over the back of Castiel's hand, before falling asleep too, a smile on his face for the first time in God knows how long. (Screw that, not even God knew anymore).

* * *

Sam knocked on the door. He'd been waiting for a good 10 minutes for Dean to show up outside, and he was worried. Dean wasn't normally so late, especially since he'd been the one nagging Sam to go back 'home' to the bunker.

"Dean?" He used the key Dean had given him to let himself in, and peered round the door.

There, lying in bed, was Dean, asleep. But he wasn't alone. His arms were wrapped securely around Castiel, who had his head lying on Dean's bare chest. Each man held the other – even in their sleep – as if he was the most precious thing to walk the Earth, and they had smiles on their faces.

Sam backed out the room, and locked the door, a small smile gracing his own features.

He could use a couple more hours of sleep, anyway.

* * *

**AN: You know, review and stuff please**


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